by Kelly Gay
“Of course it does; why the hell do you think I divorced him? Jesus, Hank. Will went through a decade of black crafting addiction. That’s what addiction does, it ruins lives, takes lives, destroys everything …” Old memories grabbed hold of my heart and the never-ending reservoir of hurt closed my throat. Hank didn’t have a clue what it was like to have your entire world pulled out from under you, to grieve for the loss of the fucking fairy tale you thought you had. Fuck Hank. He didn’t know what it was like to love someone the way I had loved Will. How hard it was, even now, to stop caring completely. Twelve years of loving someone just doesn’t go away overnight, divorce or not.
Something stirred inside me, snaking beneath my skin, wanting release, wanting a fight. I swallowed it back down. “Just back off, okay? I know how you feel about it, but …” It’s none of your business.
Sometimes words didn’t need to be said aloud to be understood. I could feel him look over at me in shock.
“It is my goddamn business, Charlie, whether you like it or not.”
Fine. I turned in my seat. I knew where this was heading but I couldn’t stop myself. “Then why the hell didn’t you say anything? You’re a siren. You can sense shit like that. All that time you had to have known, and you’re going to sit here and lecture me? When you knew?”
So there it was. Finally out in the open. Hank, being an off-worlder, was way more in tune to sensing auras and the taint caused by black crafting. There was no way he had missed sensing it on Will back then. Yet he’d said nothing at the time. Had he told me, maybe that night never would have happened.
“It wasn’t my place.” He kept his eyes focused on the road.
“So first, it’s not your business. And now it is. Which is it, Hank? Because you can’t have it both ways.”
He held up his hands for a second as though he was about to make a point, but then put them back on the steering wheel. He stared ahead for a long moment, and I knew he was trying his hardest to calm down. We were both treading on the edge of an explosive situation if one of us lost it.
A thought occurred to me. “Let me ask you this then: have you sensed it on him since that night?” I certainly hadn’t, and I’d gotten pretty good at detecting the fine, smoky odor since learning of Will’s addiction.
“No.”
“Well, gee, don’t sound so happy about it,” I snapped. I returned to my proper sitting position and folded my arms over my chest. “You could give me a little credit, you know. And Will, too. He’s been clean for eight months, going to therapy once a week, and he’s a good father. So lay off him.”
My hypocrisy was not lost on me. Hank was right and he’d said everything that I’d pretty much said to Will earlier. Yet here I was taking up for Will. I knew Will was clean, and I knew it was his addiction that had caused all the trouble in our marriage. But it didn’t erase the hurt and the deep sense of betrayal I still felt.
Hank didn’t respond, and I let the subject drop.
Talking about Will gave me a rush of nervous energy. Usually a long run or a good workout put me back to rights, but there wasn’t exactly time for that. And I hated being on the outs with my partner. So, in typical fashion, I changed the subject to redirect my energy toward something I could better control. “So what do you know about the two Houses of Charbydon? Astarot and Abaddon.”
Hank took the ramp to the highway, which wasn’t the fastest way to get back to the station.
Focusing on work, on the investigation, was where we needed to put our concentration, not on bickering about the past. He seemed to agree, because his shoulders relaxed a little and his grip loosened on the steering wheel. “Not much. They’ve been at war for centuries. Mostly political, but they’ve gone to the battlefield many times over the years. The Astarots blame the Abaddons for causing their moon to fade, among other things.”
“How do you cause a moon to fade?”
“Not sure—pollution? Someone messing with the alignment, who knows? Their moon is like the sun is to our planet. It’s different than the moon here, stronger, brighter, bigger … And now it’s dying.”
“That’s what Auggie meant.” I chewed on the straw for a few seconds, and then put the cup back down. “He didn’t want to go back home. He said it was dark, too dark, that no light shined.”
“Moonlight. The days in Charbydon are said to be blacker than black, a time of rest, but the nights are bright and active.”
I remembered Carreg’s odd words in the limo, and now I realized what he’d meant. “Both Houses are working together to find a solution. That’s what Carreg was referring to in the limo.”
Hank cast me a knowing glance. “And who best to help them figure it out? Who is the best and brightest scientist this side of the Atlantic?”
“Titus Mott,” we said in unison.
“So Mott Tech is helping them revive their moon. Could be totally unrelated.”
I shook my head. “We’re missing something. We’re missing huge pieces. Don’t you feel it? Mynogan. The jinn. The Motts. Ash. My connection to Mynogan. Hell, even the dying moon. I don’t know … My gut says it’s all related somehow. Yet none of it seems to fit.”
“Well, that’s what we’re here for, kiddo,” Hank said, pulling into a parking spot near the station. “To figure it out. Maybe one of the pieces we’re missing is in Amanda’s backpack.”
“Let’s hope.”
As soon as we stopped, I slid onto the floorboard of the car, knowing the jinn had to be watching the station and the last thing I needed was to be hauled in front of Grigori Tennin. He’d have to wait. Hank set the alarm and then went inside. All he had to do was retrieve Amanda’s backpack from the backseat of my vehicle parked in the lot out back. No one would think anything of it. Sounded simple enough, but with everything that had been going wrong, I had my doubts.
A few minutes later he was back, tossing the backpack into the passenger seat above my head. As soon as he pulled away from the station, I got into the seat and searched the pink-and-black REI backpack.
Notebook. Makeup case. Geology textbook. Glitter pens. Crumpled paper and wrappers.
“Nothing.”
I checked all the front pockets. Empty. Hank parked the car in an open spot near Dewey’s Pub. “Here,” he said, grabbing the pack. He pulled out the books and leafed through them.
I fished around in the trash, hoping for a clue. The first thing I uncrumpled was a piece of notebook paper with a boy’s name written all over it. A gum wrapper … and then a pill wrapper.
“What’s this?” I asked more to myself than Hank. It was one of those individual packets with an indentation that held medicine or gum. “This is like those old square gum packs, like Chiclets.”
“Chic what?”
“Before your time,” I said, examining the packet. The strange thing was there was no brand name written on either side of the paper. I sniffed the inside, surprised to detect a honeysuckle-like scent. There was a perforation line along one edge, as though it had been separated from a bigger pack. No markings or words anywhere.
“This looks just like the other one we found on that vic near Solomon Street.” I passed the wrapper to Hank.
He studied it and then sniffed the inside, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Sweet,” he muttered. “Smells like the other one, too. We should get this to the lab. They’ve been dying for another sample.” He let his head fall back against the headrest, completely still, and his eyes closed for a long time. Frowning, he passed it back to me, the blue in his irises turning darker with his frustration. He scrubbed his hands down his face and sighed. “It’s the smell, though. I swear I’ve come across this scent before.”
“Sucks getting old, doesn’t it?”
“Speak for yourself.” He glanced over his shoulder to pull into traffic. “Sirens don’t age.”
“True. You don’t age on the outside, but the mind is another ballpark. Give it a few hundred years more and you’ll be like Doctor Dolittle, attract
ing all the little birds and creatures of the land.” I wiggled my fingers in the air as though they were little birds, flying toward Hank.
“You’re insane,” he said under his breath.
“And talking to yourself is one of the first signs.”
We stopped at a red light, and he turned to me. “Charlie … I want to apologize for what I said. I—” He stopped me when I went to speak. “Let me finish. I should have said something back then, found some way to tell you. We were still getting to know each other, and I guess, after a while, I convinced myself you knew. So I just ignored it. And you’re right, it’s none of my business now. But watching you die …” A trace of anguish crossed his face, making his eyes dim. The light turned green, and he quickly faced the windshield. “Anyway, for what it’s worth I am sorry.”
A wave of emotion lodged in my throat, and I could only nod as we drove through the intersection. I tucked the wrapper into Bryn’s large pocketbook. “Well, maybe we can lift a print from this.” Most likely not. We’d only get partial prints, if anything. And Amanda’s would be the most prevalent.
“Maybe,” he echoed.
After a long moment, he said, “I ran into the chief inside. He’s putting an undercover officer on Bryn’s place, just in case the Charbydon idea of street justice gets out of hand. It’s not hard to track you to her or to Emma.”
I hated bringing my family into this! I hated that someone was going to great lengths to use me as a scapegoat. And I had a pretty good idea who was behind it. The bastard’s black aura would never spread to my family. I’d die before I let Mynogan infect them the way he had infected me. And I sure as hell would take him down with me, if it came to that.
I caught Hank looking in the rearview mirror again. He’d taken the most roundabout way to the station, and now we were headed back toward the interstate when we were just there minutes ago.
“We’re being tailed,” he said softly.
My stomach flipped as I caught sight of a dark blue SUV in the passenger side mirror. “Mmm. Probably Len from the deli.”
“Who?”
“A jinn at the Subshop Deli. How long has he been following us?”
“Since the station for sure.”
I turned in the seat to stare directly at the car behind us. “You know we’re going to have to talk to Grigori Tennin. Get the jinn off our backs for a while.”
A snort issued from Hank’s mouth. “Yeah, good luck with that.” Then he glanced over and saw I wasn’t laughing. “Charlie—”
“What? It’s not your ass being hunted. And the way I see it, I don’t really have a choice. They’re all trying to find me and bring me into the summons anyway. No, I need to fix this now, under my terms.”
“You mean we,” Hank corrected. “We need to fix this.” He glanced in the rearview mirror, his profile going hard and grim. “Time to walk the line, kiddo. You thinking what I’m thinking?”
Anticipation fired my blood, and, despite my better judgment, I was still itching for that fight. “Absolutely.”
Hank navigated the car away from the interstate and down a small side street lined with warehouses that eventually dipped under the highway overpass. It was the perfect place for a trap. I turned in the seat, withdrew my Nitro-gun, and set the weapon to a hard freeze.
Once we cleared the overpass, the Mercedes accelerated fast, drawing away from the SUV. But no sooner than Hank had gunned it, he slammed on the brakes and did a one-eighty, turning to face the SUV, which braked hard, skidding head-on, straight toward us.
We were out of the car, weapons drawn just before the SUV’s locked-up tires came to a smoking halt inches from Hank’s fender. Before the driver had a chance to reverse, I ran to the window, aimed the gun, and ordered him out. Hank went to the passenger’s side. “All clear!” he called.
I opened the driver’s side door and stood back. “Out of the vehicle. Hands where I can see them.”
Len’s dark fingers flexed around the leather steering wheel, and his violet irises burned with rage. He wasn’t moving. Apprehending an irate jinn was like trying to put a collar on a rabid hyena. No one ever came out unscathed.
Hank came around the SUV, his weapon trained on Len. His steps were careful as he scanned the area under the overpass. “I thought you guys traveled in packs,” he said, coming to stand at my side.
Len’s answer was to spit at our feet. I cocked an eyebrow at his show of contempt. Like I hadn’t seen that one before. “Whatever.” I grabbed a handful of his hoodie and jerked him from the vehicle, holding the Nitro-gun at his back as I shoved him against the SUV’s hood and kicked out his feet with my borrowed pumps.
I pulled two knives, a set of brass knuckles, and two spell vials from his person. Hank took each one from me, examined it, and then pocketed the items. “So how much am I worth to the one who brings me in?” I asked as I patted down the insides of his thighs. “Must be a lot if you came alone.” Len must have seen an opportunity and taken it. Too bad for him.
“I don’t need help with one little female.”
Hank’s mouth dropped a fraction, obviously offended at being left out of the danger factor. “Uh, hello? Siren here … She does have a partner.”
I straightened and exchanged a wry smile with Hank, ignoring his remark. “It’s got to be the outfit.” I had to admit I did look all soft and girly in this getup. “Need I remind you,” I said to Len, “who’s got who pinned against the side of the car?”
It was never a good idea in any situation to goad a jinn, but I couldn’t help it. I had a reputation to uphold.
His muscles tensed right before he twisted around and grabbed my wrist, jerking it aside just as I squeezed the trigger. The blast skipped across the hood of the vehicle. He grappled with my arm, trying to use his force to spin me around and hold my back against his front. His beefy arm encircled my waist as his other hand still worked on trying to relieve me of my gun. I nailed him in the nose with my elbow, using every ounce of strength I had, and heard a sickening crunch for my effort.
“Any time now!” I barked at my partner, jamming the heel of my pump into Len’s shin and then dragging it down. He growled, grabbed my hair, and then jerked my head up. Pain flashed across my entire scalp, making my eyes water.
“These are second-rate, man,” Hank said to Len, examining one of the spell vials.
“Hank!” It was one thing to know your partner had complete confidence in your fighting abilities … But after I got through with Len, I was going to beat Hank senseless with one of my sister’s black pumps.
He shook one of the vials and then said, “Duck.”
The small glass tube came hurtling toward us. I barely had time to relax my body and drop through Len’s arms, despite the fact that he still had a nice chunk of my hair clenched in his fist. As I dropped, I grabbed the chunk to alleviate some of the pain even as hair began to pull from my scalp.
He let go as the vial broke against the side of his smooth, gray head, engulfing us in a cloud of muddy green stench.
Immediately, I held my breath, glad my arms were over my head, shielding me somewhat from the chain reaction above me. If I didn’t breathe it in, I was okay. Len stiffened for a count of three, then tipped over like a dead tree in the forest. Coughing from the thick scent of something acrid and tangy, I crawled out from under the small mushroom cloud. Whatever it was, it burned the insides of my nose and throat raw.
I grabbed on to Hank’s leg and pulled up, my fingers digging as hard as they could into his knee, thigh, and then arm.
He was laughing. Not out loud, but with his eyes. And to me, that was the same thing.
When I straightened and regained my balance, I shoved him hard. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I coughed again, hacking loudly and trying to get the taste out of my mouth. “Idiot! You could have shot him!”
“Yeah, I know,” Hank sighed, chuckling softly.
“I know you’re Mister Invincible and everything, but could you try to take
things seriously once in a while?” I eyed him with a glare of disbelief. “You’re so annoying. Don’t even talk to me. You almost hit me with that friggin’ vial. You have no idea how lucky you are right now.”
Blue eyes glittered back at me. He tried to put on a serious face. What the hell was so damn funny? I turned to study Len, and didn’t see anything amusing about his unconscious form. I whirled back to Hank. “What the hell was in that potion?”
“It was an attraction spell. To lure a jinn female.” He rubbed his chin, studying Len. “Don’t think you’re supposed to use the entire bottle though.”
“Ya think?”
I massaged my closed eyelids, trying to ease the stinging aftereffects of the spell shower. “Come on, let’s get him into the back or else we’re gonna have the entire female jinn population sniffing him out in no time.”
“That guy’s not going anywhere near my car.” Hank made an offended face. “Neither one of you.”
I bent down and grabbed one of Len’s ankles, but not before shooting Hank a dark look. “Payback will come, my friend. When you least expect it.”
“Hey, all I did was save your ass.”
“Uh-huh. Help me get him into the SUV.”
It took Hank and me a good fifteen minutes to drag the two-hundred-fifty-pound jinn to the back of the SUV, pick him up, and deposit him into the back. I’d have to drive with the windows down all the way to Underground.
CHAPTER 10
We drove into one of the delivery lanes near Underground, parked, and then Hank heaved Len over his shoulder. Making a scene hadn’t been something we’d planned for. In fact, we really didn’t have a plan at all. Unless walking into the Lion’s Den and asking the biggest tribe boss this side of the Mason-Dixon to forgive an unforgiveable debt was a plan—well then, we had a doozy.
I followed Hank’s large form through Underground, acutely aware of the stares and openmouthed gawks we received. It wasn’t every day you saw a siren carrying an unconscious jinn through the streets.